In my previous post on the debut of Noir, I compared the eponymous host with Top Gear’s Jeremy Clarkson. With Noir episode two, I’m changing my comparison. Colion Noir is the new Andy Rooney. For those of you younger than dirt, Andy Rooney was a commentator for CBS’ 60 Minutes. His segments were famous for their piercing glimpses into the obvious. Click here for a sample, or consider this, my humble attempt at a parody . . .
Have you ever looked at a doorknob? I mean really looked at a doorknob. Most people don’t look at doorknobs when they turn them. They just turn them. Some doorknobs turn clockwise. Others turn counter-clockwise. I’ve always wonder why that is. Some doorknobs aren’t knobs but levers. You don’t turn them. You push them down like you’re flushing a toilet. I half expect to hear the sound of water rushing around when I open a doorknob that’s a lever. But I don’t.
The reason I mention this is because A) Colion’s kvetching about deeply unfashionable gun stores is Rooney reincarnated (“Have you ever looked at a gun box? I mean, really looked at a gun box?”) and B) there’s a rumor going around that the international diplomatic community is considering adding a prohibition against playing the host’s rants to prisoners of war as an update to the Geneva Convention.
OK the show’s not quite that bad. And it is black. ‘Cause Colion’s black as hell (by his own admission). And he’s blacked-out every car he’s ever had (I’ll take window tinting for 200 Alex). His guns are black. And while he likes colored (as in colorful) guns, Colion’s black. Did I already mention that he’s black? If you don’t believe me or you’re blind, just listen to Colion in Episode 2. He mentions his skin color with such regularity that Noir (which means black) should have its own Guinness drinking game.
While I’m glad Colion’s black and an NRA spokesman, OK WE GET IT. I thought the whole point of a having a black spokesman was to demonstrate that gun rights transcend race. Not to make ethnicity the YouTube equivalent of Christ symbolism in The Old Man and the Sea. Only WAY more obvious. And ten times as tedious. Can we move on now please?
And while we’re moving on, can we ditch the metrosexual emphasis on fashion? I appreciate the fact that Mr. Noir is an aesthete. But trying to connect getting your inseam measured by your personal tailor to buying a gun at a gun store is like trying to compare dating your future wife to paying for a prostitute. Wait. That’s not it. Oh, you know what I mean. I mean, when is someone going to shoot a damn gun? Or release the horizontal tension on his co-host’s blouse? (It had to be said.)
Noir (the person) is a victim of love. (I could be wrong but I’m not. No I’m not.) The NRA loved Colion so much they let him produce his own show. Big mistake. Someone should have found a way to bottle his genius and then, uh, stick a cork in it. And let someone else have a go. Again, the panel idea would’ve worked. There are other possibilities. Call me Colion. Just like armed self-defense, the only thing worse than doing something wrong is to keep doing it wrong until you die. Metaphorically speaking.